You are Perfect, To Me
by Aquatwin
Summary: They're not perfect. Not by any means. But they were perfect...to each other. And in the end, that was all that mattered.
1. His perfect girl

•**Part I•**

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><p>Everyone has their flaws.<p>

It was the requirement for anyone to be considered human. Often times, the person themself saw more flaws in themselves than anyone else.

He doesn't say it, but he knows that she is too hard on herself. He knows that she thinks that she's not pretty, not strong enough, that she'll never be like her mother. He sees the way she scrutinizes her every mistake, the way she looks sadly into the mirror, as if tracing out the form of her friends in her mind and comparing it to herself.

She wasn't perfect. He knows that. She's too tempermental, she's too set on being on the top of _everything_, she can't play music of any kind, she was as stubborn as a mule, she had to have everything figured out, and it was true, she was a little flat chested.

Those were just some of the reasons why he loved her.

He loved the way she got so flustered and angered. He loved her persistance. He loved how she wasn't so easily swayed by mere words of flattery. He loved her intelect. He even loved how she wasn't busty. She wasn't normal - what normal girl goes around slaying strayed souls for e_xtra credit?_ - and it drew him to her like a moth to a flame. He almost laughed at the analogy. It certainly fit. She was his light in the murky depths of his dark insanity.

But he hated how hard she was on herself. She was far better than her mother ever would be in his eyes. She was so much more stronger than himself; she could handle her whore of a father, she dealt with her mothers abscence like it was normal, she didn't flinch at her friends hyperactive ways, and most of all, she took his broken soul and mended it. And damn, so what if she had a petite form, she certainly had the legs to make up for it.

She wasn't perfect, not by a long shot.

But she was _his_ perfect girl.

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><p><strong>Short, sweet, and old. This little tid bit was buried in my soul eater composition folder on my computer, and I decided "hey, this looks cute, why not make a two shot out of it?" So next chapter will be Maka's Pov. Hopefully I can do her justice. For some odd reason, I always write better when I'm writing in the point of view of a guy...I have no idea WHYYY, I just do<strong>

**And my apologies to my Maka goes nya readers! the next chatper is almost done! I just have to write up the next few paragraphs! It'll be a looooong chatper, so I hope it'll make up for the wait!**

**Title inspired by a song by the most amazing and awesome singer EVER: P!nk's song F**ckin' Perfect**


	2. Her perfect boy

•**Part II•**

Everyone has their flaws.

It didn't matter who, even the most powerful of people had their faults. A lot were quick to point out the glitches in their selves before anyone else could do it for them.

She didn't voice it out loud - she knew how quickly he'd deny it - but she knows he doesn't think very high of himself, no matter how cool he insists he is. He thinks that his appearance scares people off, that he doesn't have enough strength to fight and fend for himself, that he'll never match up to his brother. She always notices how he's careful not to smile when they're not in Death city, hiding away his serated teeth, blood red eyes cast down. She's seen him during solo weapon training, frustrated to the point of almost losing his cool demeanor whenever he loses in the par. She's spotted the look of anguish that that crosses his face everytime he hears violin.

It wasn't like he was flawless. That was _obvious_. He was a lazy-ass, he always justified his actions with _'it's cool' _or '_it's uncool'_. He never played for anyone but her, he was overprotective, and yeah, perhaps his appearance was a bit offputting.

She just _wished_ that she could tell him that those were only a handful of reasons why she loved him.

She loved when she caught him truly relaxed, that dab of drool dripping from his mouth meaning that he was sleeping peacefully. His definition of cool was something that she sort of liked - more like a loyal friend and gentleman than anything. She sort of felt special that he'd only play for _her_ - not counting the times they group resonated, but those times were different - letting her see a side of him that was reserved for her and only her. She also thought that his appearance was actually pretty cool. And although it annoyed the crap out of her that he thought she couldn't take care of herself, she couldn't help but admire how protective he could be of her, normally putting her needs before his own.

However, she couldn't _stand_ how he looked down on himself. His brother's music was nothing compared to how he himself played, so much more **real** and _thrilling_ than anything she's heard before. He was much stronger than she could ever hope to be; nearly getting himself killed just to protect _her_, battling the insanity that now ran through his very veins every day, dealing with _her_ stubborn and violent attitude on a daily basis, even manageing to almost always keep a cool head no matter the situation. Most of all, he made her trust men again, proved that she could love without being left completely broken in the end. **So **_**what**_if most people were frightened by his appearance, he was the very deffinition of handsome in her eyes.

He wasn't perfection, not at all.

But he was _her_ perfect boy.

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><p><strong>Whaaaat? Am I absolutetly cheating and using the same formatting as I did in the last chapter, only in maka's pov? why n-yes. I wanted a more organized story for once so I ended up trying to keep it in the same format (from the intro, to the first paragraph pointing out what the other thinks they are flawed about, then what they think the partners flaws are, .). I actually thinkg that I did a pretty bang up job! (even though Maka's part came out longer than soul's for some reason).<strong>

**But now that I've written 2 parts, I really want to write some more chapters for this. Short cute chaptered stories are easier than the ones where you try to make each chapter as long as possible (*referencing to my other SE story which I haven't updated in about 4 months because I want it to be long and I procrastinate TAT)**

**So this _may_ get another chapter. That is, if I get enough reviews. Because continuing a story no one wants would be sad. **


	3. She's beautiful

•**Part III•**

She's beautiful.

Thanks to society, to most people when they think of _that_ word - '_beautiful_' - they immediatly think of supermodels that are pasted up onto billboards and obviously edited and photoshopped.

He's aware of what she _thinks_ his idea of beautiful is. She thinks he see's it as girls with big breasts, flushed out hips, and layers upon layers of make-up. She thinks that he only likes the girls that throw themselves at him - despite how often he clearly states how _uncool_ it is - and that will only be good for a fun time and nothing more. She seems to even think that he wants a girl who is a complete ditz.

How **very** wrong she is.

He doesn't see that as beautiful. He sees that as fake and troublesome and just in general so very, _very _**uncool**.

No, he thinks that the term deserves a very different definition.

**.**...

The sound of slicing air, a final feral battle screech , and the Kishin egg was no more. With a flash of blue light, he materialized in front of the blazing red soul, gripping the squishy thing between his fingers, and hastily gulped it down. The texture was always the best part of the soul, pleasantly flowing down the back of his throat. It tasted much sweeter with the victory over such a tough oponent.

The feeling of success was short lived.

_Thud. _His eyes widened, immediately whipping around. His eyes fell to his meister. She lay collapsed on the ground, clutching her thigh in a tight grasp. His heart dropped to his stomach as he caught sight of the deep red liquid now staining her gloves.

"_Damn it_." She hissed through clenched teeth. That in itself proved to him that the cut was bad, because Maka almost _never_ cursed.

He crouched down beside her, the gravel of the road crunching under his shoes. Narrowed green eyes spare a glance up at him, eyebrows pinched together in obvious agony. The sight itself was enough to pierce his heart, but he didn't let it show.

Silently, he nudged her hand aside to take in the damage done. She made a noise of protest, however she didn't make a move to stop him.

His fingers gently grasped her thigh, observing the cut. The wound was rather deep, gushing more blood than a wound on the leg should, he noted. There was no way she'd be able to walk without hurting herself further. He tried to cram the guilt down that he didn't even _notice_ when she got the gash - he was supposed to protect her _damn it!_ - because right now he just needed to find a way to get her home _safe_ without causing her anymore unneccesary pain.

Careful of her injury, he placed his hands under her. He hefted her up into a bridal hold with a light grunt, her hands springing to life and fumbling to grip around his neck at the sudden move, nearly choking him as they locked around his neck. He gagged for a moment, caught off guard by the vice grip.

"Soul, what are you doing?" She squeaked, eyes wide. He rolled his eyes. He would've smirked at the ridiculous - kind of cute - expression on her face if it weren't for the situation.

"Isn't it obvious? I'm carrying you home." He grumbled, shifting her slightly in his arms. He attempted to pretend that the gloves that pressed against the back of his neck were warm and damp from the blood of their _oponent._ As long as he thought that, he wouldn't have a panic attack over her.

"I can walk on my own." She quickly defended, glaring off to the side. He gave her a deadpan look. Sometimes he wished she wouldn't be so stubborn about getting help from others.

_But then it wouldn't be Maka._ He sighed, shaking his head at her stubborn attitude. " It's not like I'm gonna drop you, Maka." He assured. She turned her glare to him, pouting. He stared right back, conveying to her through his eyes to just _let him help her_. They maintained their little glaring contest for a few moments, neither backing down, before she finally gave a defeated sigh, letting her head fall so that it rested in the crook of his neck.

It felt like forever before they finally reached their apartment. Soul was afraid that Maka might've passed out from blood loss by the time they arrived, but her grumbling against his neck that the spare key was under the carpet assauged that worry. After fumbling around to get the key and unlock the door for a few moments, they were finally inside.

He gingerly placed her on the couch, before rushing to the bathroom to retrieve the first aid kit. When he returned, Maka looked almost dead, eyes foggy and unfocused, blood splattered across the expanse of her body. Her head lulled to the side as he knelt down next to the couch.

"You alright?" He mumbled, spraying the wound on her thigh with disinfectant. He cringed at her sharp intake of breath, staring intently at her wound to avoid looking at her face.

She didn't respond, and he wasn't sure if she heard him or not. The quiet certainly wasn't helping _his_ nerves. She finally broke the silence by muttering something he couldn't catch while he was wrapping her leg in bandages

"What?" He asked, settling onto the couch and raising her feet onto his lap, unstrapping the buckles of her boots. He knew she was too tired and weak at the moment to remove them herself.

"53." She repeated. She gave a light groan as he slid off each of her shoes, then sighed in contenment once they were off. He dropped them uncermoniously onto the ground, the shoes clunking against the floor loudly.

"What about 53?" He murmered, leaning over her and gently grabbing the tips of her glove, tugging each of the soiled garments off of her hand one at a time. Once that was done, without a word, she lethargicly sat up, inclining her head towards him. He gripped her hair ties, gently tugging her hair free of them.

"That's 53 kishin eggs now."

His fingers paused from brushing through her hair. He finally looked down at her face to see a tired grin on her face, emerald eyes half lidded, but glowing with pride.

He gazed at her, eyes softening. "That much closer to making me a death scythe." He spoke quietly, dragging his fingers out of her hair, the strands silk against his skin. She hummed in agreement, flopping back onto the couch and nuzzling the couches throw pillows.

Seeing she was obviously worn out, he shifted her legs from his lap onto the couch. Of course, he wasn't paying much attention at the right then, and he didn't place her shoes neatly onto the floor-

_BONCK_

He groaned into the floorboards, his head ringing from the impact of the fall. How uncool, tripping over something as simple as _shoes_. The fall felt almost as bad as a Maka-chop - and he knows first hand that those things hurt like a _bitch_. As the rattling in his head ebbed away, his ears were met with the sound of his meister giggling. He rolled his head to the side, staring up at Maka from his place on the ground.

His breath caught in his throat.

Her hair looked almost golden from the moon light trickling through the window, wispy strands of hair framing her face and lightly carressing her slightly pink cheeks. Her hands that she held over her mouth to hold back her laughter were smooth, saved from abuse thanks to her gloves, the ivory skin almost glowing. Her viridian eyes twinkled with mirth, tears appearing at the corners of her eyes from laughing. And her _**laugh**_.It was dainty ,cute. Her frame shook with each guffaw. She looked so fragile lying there, a side of her that he knew she rarely willingly let anyone see, a side that she trusted **him **enough to _let him _see.

"You're such a clutz, _Mister Death Scythe_." She squeaked between her spurts of giggles, throwing her head back. He could feel his lips twitching up into a tender grin, watching her as she laughed at his pain. She put up a barrier, guarding herself from harm, from letting people in. He had to work to see these few moments of her vulnerability. Of her laughing so freely, not looking like she was shouldering the weight of the world.

She had blood staining her skin and clothes. Had dirt and gravel clotted in her hair. She was petite, with no breasts and she didn't wear a single speck of make up.

She looked beautiful.

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><p><strong>Authors Note:<strong> Apologies if this sounds stupid, I've went over this a dozen times, and I'm REEEEEALLY too tired right now with a massive headache and don't want to go over it one final time to make sure it all flows right. There might be a grammar mistake here and there, so apologies if there is.

Yup, I shall continue this story. But I want suggestions please! I don't really know what else to do. I mean, next chapter will be the mirrored idea of how maka finds soul handsome despite what he thinks, but I'm not sure what other '_perfection'_ things I could go with. Other than kindness/loyalty and understanding. Ya know?

oh, and this chapter, I'll mention another song about being perfect the way you are. Its call **Imperfect is the New perfect** by Caitlin Crosby.

erm, Feedback'll make me want to write faster!


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